And the Angels Wept
by Ekat
Summary: Methos' thoughts on the Attack on America


Title: And the Angels Wept  
Author: Ekat  
Summary: Methos' thoughts on the Attack on America  
Disclaimer: I don't own the ROG. I'm not making any money off of this. This is all me and my wondering on what he would think about the largest terrorist attack to take place on American soil. I DO NOT hold to any of the theories, speculation, or ideas expressed in this work of FICTION.   
Characters: M, OC  
Rating: PG  
  
***************************************  
  
MEMO  
  
To: Rachel Harrington, Head Researcher, Methos Project  
From: Jacob Hess, Translations Department  
Date: March 23, 2173  
Re: Item 237-38  
  
Rachel,  
  
Per your request, I have completed the translation of Item 237-38. The reason you were having trouble with deciphering the entries is that he wrote them in a dialect of Aramaic rather than using the true language.  
  
I will leave it to you to read what the ancient Immortal wrote. I will tell you that it bothered me to no end to do the translation. Do me a favor, next time, ask me for translations of grocery lists. They won't give me nightmares.  
  
J.  
  
**********************************  
  
Rachel Harrington, current head of the Methos Project, set down the memo that came attached to the hard copy translation of a journal they had recently discovered and believed to belong to the legendary Methos. Many of the entries they had been able to translate. But a couple entries were in a language no one on her team was able to comprehend. So she called in a couple favors and got Jacob to provide her with the translations they sought.  
  
"What does he mean, give him nightmares?" she asked herself aloud as she picked up the report. She thumbed through the large pile of papers until one particular date caught her eye.  
  
September 11, 2001.  
  
Unable to resist, Rachel pulled out the pages and read the diary.  
  
*************************************  
  
9/11/01  
  
Today it happened. Something I knew would be coming. The United States was attacked on home soil.   
  
8:45 EST a hijacked commercial airliner slammed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. Eighteen minutes later, a second one hits the other tower. Not long after that, one slammed into the Pentagon while half an hour later a fourth plane goes down in rural Pennsylvania. Soon after that the skyline of New York City is changed as the World Trade Center crumbles to the ground.  
  
The Americans are actually surprised that they could be the target of terrorism at home. They grew complacent because they have never been attacked on their own soil. That's merely because their opponents have been too lazy to cross the Atlantic and bring the war to them. They all cower in fear over what will happen next. I've actually heard them say things like "We've never lived in this kind of fear before." Has it really been so long that they have forgotten what it was like during the 1960's? When children had air raid drills in school as routinely as they have fire drills? When families built bomb shelters in their backyard and stocked them with enough supplies to last 30 years?  
  
I hate to admit it though, but a small part of me is jealous. There was a time when I was the one to think up plans that would strike fear into the hearts of entire nations. Whoever is the mastermind behind this shows signs of being a tactical genius. It takes brains, not to mention resources to pull off what he did. Kronos would have said that he was worthy of being a Horseman. Okay, he would have said it just before he killed him for taking all the glory. But Kronos isn't here anymore. I know that I am not the murdering butcher I was thousands of years ago, but a small part of me tips his hat to the madman.  
  
This is not saying that I am not affected by the horror and devastation that has happened today. But, this is not the first terrorist attack I have witnessed, and I highly doubt it will be my last. However, this is worse than anything I could have ever imagined up. This is more than just a band of petty warlords terrorizing caravans. It is an international tragedy. Thousands of innocent people lost their lives today in an apparent senseless act of hostility. I mourn for them. I guess I've been spending too much time with MacLeod. His damn boy-scout morality is rubbing off on me.   
  
So I sit here and wonder: what now? Obviously America will be digging out lower Manhattan for months. You can't move all that steel and concrete in just a couple of days. But as they do that, what happens on the global level?  
  
Is this really just a one-time thing, or was this just the appetizer? The strategist in me says get them focused on New York. Let them ground their planes. Bring communication, travel, and finance to a screeching halt. Then once they are lulled back into a false sense of security, when they think that it was a one-time thing, BAM, hit them somewhere else. Take out power stations. Not necessarily all on the East Coast. Yes, hit places like Niagara Falls, Five Mile Island, the TVA. But also hit things like the Hoover Dam, and the nuclear plants up and down the West Coast. But why stop there? Firebomb the Mid-West. As the proverb says, an army marches on its stomach. Take out a major source of their food production and they will be hard pressed to return the engagement. But then there are the military bases. Got to hit those as well. Norfolk, Atlanta, Omaha, Louisiana, all of them.  
  
I guess it's a good thing I'm not in this business anymore.   
  
*********************************************  
  
  
Rachel sat back in stunned horror. Here was the Immortal she had spent years studying and researching talking bluntly about what he would do if he were leading the attacks. She knew that Methos had been the tactical brains behind the group of men known at "The Four Horsemen". But she didn't realize just how strategically oriented the man's mind was. Rachel had spent her life believing that most of the people who lived through the attacks were focused on solidarity, and patriotism, and on rebuilding. But not Methos.  
  
She felt herself shiver as she turned to the next entry.  
  
**********************************************  
  
9/13/01  
  
Somehow I managed to get myself trapped in the backseat of Joe's SUV travelling cross-country. MacLeod, with his damned overactive sense of duty, has decided that with all of his war zone medic training and strong back, he needs to go to New York and volunteer for rescue and recovery detail. [untranslatable] hero.  
  
Joe's reason I can understand. He's the Director of North American Operations for the Watchers and there was a suite of offices in the North Tower of the WTC that was home to the NY branch. He feels the need to go and be there in case, on the off chance, anyone is still alive. And if they are not, he feels it's his duty to comfort the families. That's the one thing that I have always admired about the man, he takes his duties and responsibilities to heart.  
  
And then there's me. What the hell am I doing here? Why did I allow those two to talk me into joining them on this damned fool crusade? Morbid curiosity perhaps? Although I have seen the ravages of war before, I want to see, first hand, just how bad it really is. Perhaps it's because I don't trust the so-called historians to document the event properly. They always add a political spin to what they write, regardless of how "neutral" they are.  
  
So here we are the hero, the guardian, and the realist, traveling to ground zero.  
  
I never realized how much I have come to rely on air travel to get from place to place. For thousands of years I had to either had to travel on the back of a horse or use my own two feet. But I find myself thinking in infantile phrases like "are we there yet?" because it feels like I've been trapped back here for centuries, when it's really only been a day.  
  
One thing that I have found enlightening during this trip, is the thinking of the average American citizen. We stopped in a small dinner somewhere in South Dakota and I got a chance to overhear a group of men discussing the situation.  
  
One man was under the firm belief that it was Osama bin Laden who spearheaded the attacks. He seems to be in the majority. What bothered me what his statements that the army should "round up all those damn Arabs and exterminate them." Blaming an entire race/religion for the actions of a few is not rational thinking in the least. And the call for extermination of all members of that group sounds too much like the propaganda I heard 60 years ago in Germany. I felt my blood run cold with that comparison.  
  
Then there was another gentleman who said that he didn't believe it was bin Laden at all- that the insane millionaire was just a convenient scapegoat. No, he thinks that it's the Palestinians. When his friend pointed out that Arafat was openly speaking out against this act of terrorism and even donated blood for the victims, he replied, "What better way to send the dogs off your scent? Diversionary tactics at it's best." Interesting theory.  
  
Then there was my favorite theory on it all. A third man chimed in agreeing that he felt that it wasn't bin Laden at all. But he also didn't feel that it was the Palestinians, or the Israelis or the Egyptians or any of the other Arab nations. Who does he think is behind the attacks? President Bush himself. I had to fight the urge to laugh out loud at that one. Then I heard his rationale. The logic was almost scary.  
  
He pointed out that up until two days ago, Bush's foreign policy had been rather nebulous, his domestic policies were coming under attack for starting to send the economy into a recession and that his presidency in general was constantly being compared to that of his father, who happened to be in office during the Gulf War. Bush needed something to turn himself into the hero. He needed something to bring the American people together with a common cause to rally behind.  
  
This man then went on to point out that many of the hijackers are believed to have trained in the United States on how to fly jets. But the major sticking point on it all, where in the US they were trained... Florida. And who should be Governor of that state? None other than President Bush's brother Jeb.   
  
The guy claims that Bush had not intended for the damage to be so extensive, but now that it's happened, he has to deal with it. But, he's got his cause, he's got an excuse to have a war, just like Daddy Dearest, and he's got the American people united behind him.  
  
I must say, as far as conspiracy theories go, this is the best I have heard in a while.  
  
So who is the correct one? Only time will tell. I'm certainly not in any position to make judgement calls. And frankly I could care less who started it. What I am concerned about is, how will it finish? This is no schoolyard slugfest that ends when the teacher returns and sends all involved to detention. This is a war. And the only things that ever come out of wars are debts, debris, and dead bodies.  
  
Gods preserve me from "Just Causes".  
  
********************************************  
  
With shaking hands the Watcher put down the translation and picked up the next one.  
  
********************************************  
  
9/16/01  
  
We've been in New York for just over a day and a half now. Words do not exist to describe what I have witnessed here.  
  
London during the Blitz was nothing compared to the several square blocks of lower Manhattan that once housed the World Trade Center. For blocks you can find rubble of the towers. The entire landscape of the area has taken on a surrealistic costume. Everything is covered in a layer of white dust and ash.   
  
Even the feel of the city has changed. It used to be a city of life, where even the very air danced with enthusiasm and beat with its own heart. But now the life force of this once vibrant town has been sucked out. One does not need to be empathic to feel the sorrow that is radiating in Manhattan today.  
  
The city, like the rest of the nation, is mourning. It mourns for the loss of human life; for its lost landmarks; for its lost innocence. And I find myself mourning along with it.  
  
MacLeod has been working non-stop with the rescuers. He's determined to help find the survivors, if there are any left. Joe and I have literally had to drag him away and make him take even a fifteen-minute break and drink something.   
  
Joe has managed to account for all of the missing Watchers. Of the one hundred that were working out of New York, sixty were in the field, six had called in sick, ten had not arrived to work by the time the plane hit, fifteen escaped with superficial wounds, and six are in local hospitals with more serious injuries. The last three are on the confirmed casualties lists. As expected Joe is taking the loss hard.   
  
As for myself, I'm more shaken then I will let either of my friends realize. I found myself walking along the walls of missing person flyers, and felt my soul cry out in anguish. At one time I would have called them necessary collateral damage. But not any more. Collateral damages do not have names, or faces, or families. They are just numbers on a page somewhere. But these are mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, friends.   
  
As I was walking past NYU medical center, a young man stumbled out of the building and collided into me. There were tears in his eyes and when he finally looked at me, I could see a soul in pain. Before I realized what was happening I reached up and embraced him. He collapsed against my shoulder and just cried. For fifteen solid minutes I stood on that street corner, lending comfort to a complete stranger who had part of his world ripped out from under him.  
  
As I held the man, I found myself amazed at how much I have changed over the past few millennia and I realized that the majority of that change has occurred over the last few years that I have known a certain Highlander. The man I once was would not be standing there allowing a stranger to cry on his shoulder. The man I once was would not have cared about the number of dead and missing. But the man I am today does care and is outraged at the act of cowardice that has been displayed.  
  
When the man finally had spent all his tears, he looked up at me. We never exchanged a word. Just a smile, a nod and an understanding. We parted just as we had met...anonymous faces in the crowd.  
  
As I walked away from him, I found myself with tears flooding my eyes.  
  
Silas summed it up best when he said, "I don't like this killing from a distance." But unfortunately this is the twenty-first century and that is how wars are fought. It's so easy for them now. They don't have to look in the eye of their enemy as they kill them. The collateral damages can remain numbers on a page.  
  
And they called me a monster.  
  
****************************************  
Rachel leaned back in her chair and let out a long, slow, breath as she absorbed what Methos had written.  
  
Here it was over 160 years after the tragedy and she was being affected by the writings of someone who was there. She knew how the war had ended. But that didn't change how she felt by reading the ancient one's thoughts.  
  
She looked down at the stack of papers still on her desk. She would come back to them another time. Once the dreams from reading these went away.  
  
End  



End file.
